France Day 7: France Gave Us The Finger

We accidentally slept in today, in our peaceful little Marseille haven – but I think we needed it. We ate a breakfast (squeeze-it-yourself orange juice, organic teas, baguettes with homemade apricot jam, boil-them-yourself fresh eggs and local cheeses) next to the pool. This was our view, the door to our room:

We were very close to the Calanques national park, which requires you to park your car outside the grounds and hike an hour (over a mountain) each way to get to a most gorgeous beach…UNLESS you have a reservation at the restaurant. We knew this, and had made a lunch reservation the day before. However, when we showed up at the gate and asked to be let through, the gatekeeper didn’t have us on the list. A ridiculous 15-minute conversation ensued. He didn’t speak a word of English. And he didn’t seem to understand my French. He asked me “American or English?” – like, really, he couldn’t tell that?! And how was that relevant to me getting my car through that gate? Anyway, he phoned the restaurant, and gave his phone to me to talk to them. They didn’t have my reservation either. But I hung up and said, “Oui, reservation” and handed him back his phone. He gave me the EXACT look that my grandfather (who was also French) used to give me when he knew I was lying to him, but thought I was adorable, so he was going to let me get away with it anyway. (Chin down, slack jawed, eyes looking up/kind of rolling, but stuck in one spot). He opened the gate, exasperated, and let us pass. The trouble was worth it, as we found this on the other end of the treacherous road:

This is the Calanque Sormiou.  

We stayed at the beach for a while, but not long enough for the guard to believe we had eaten lunch.  While driving back through his gate, I refused to make eye contact, rolled up my window, and pretended to be lost in conversation with M.  About 1km down the road, we saw this:

We have no idea why there is a statue of a giant thumb in Marseille, but I turned to M and said, “I think France just gave us the finger for what we did back there.”  She started giggling and didn’t stop for a good 5 minutes.

Next, we drove to Saint Tropez. All the guidebooks describe it as well past its heyday – a run down town that pales in comparison to its more glamorous neighbors of Cannes and Nice. But I wanted to see it because Brigitte Bardot made it famous, and she is my hair idol. I could not disagree more with the guidebooks. Saint Tropez is fantastique! It is loaded with adorable shops and bakeries, has a large waterfront restaurant area, and is stunningly beautiful. We ate lunch at a café overlooking yachts in the harbor. 

Then we walked around looking at the charming homes nearby. I would move there in a heartbeat!

We drove through Cannes to get to our hotel and hit really bad traffic. I blame the Kardashians, who are in town. Cannes is fancy – we saw lots of Lambos, Bentleys and Ferraris as we drove through. But we were exhausted, hungry, and just wanted to get out of the car, so we pushed on to our hotel in the next town over, Antibes.

Hotel Mademoiselle, our home for the next 2 nights, is positively adorable! It sits on an outdoor mall, with lots of shops and restaurants (which means you can’t park at the hotel – you have to walk quite far with luggage, but it is worth it), and has interiors that are very French!  They even leave fresh homemade cookies in the room!

We wandered around the Juan Les Pins beach, looking for restaurants, and finally settled into one for dinner. We ate chicken kabobs and warm goat cheese salad, scrolled news stories on my phone, and talked about all the big news today (terror attacks in Lyon, Supreme Court rulings back home, prison escapee killed, etc.). We felt a little left out, but then looked over our shoulders at the beach and decided we would much rather be here!

Tomorrow: Monaco, and probably lots more traffic along the Riviera

France Day 6: France's Favorite Band

This morning we grabbed breakfast at a patisserie inside our walled medieval city Carcassonne, then called for the porter to pick us up. He had to drive us (and our bags) through the cobblestone lanes, over the drawbridge, outside the walls, and over to where our car was parked (in what used to be the moat). During the ride, he asked where we were from and I said, “Los Angeles.” He lit up and said, “My favorite band is from Los Angeles!!” I started running through possibilities in my mind, but he blurted out, “Toto!”  I shot M a sideways glance but she just stared back blankly, obviously having no clue who Toto is. The driver went on, and on, and on… “Their new album is fantastique! I drove all the way to Barcelona to see them live once. Have you ever run into them in LA?” This was more conversation about Toto than I ever have had, or wanted to have, in my life. FINALLY, we reached the car. He said, “Thanks for visiting Europe’s largest walled city!” Having been to both Lucca and Dubrovnik, I thought about correcting him – but then decided not to bother debating with a guy whose favorite band in the world is Toto.

About half an hour down the road, I was flipping through French radio stations and heard, “I bless the rains down in Africa….” I turned to M and said, “OMG!! It is Toto!”  We both busted out laughing. Maybe it is a French thing?

Before long, we reached Pont du Gard, our fourth UNESCO world heritage site of the trip. This 2000-year-old structure is the highest bridge ever built by the Romans. How they stacked giant blocks of stone 16 stories high in  the year 19 BC is beyond me! Each stone weighs 4 to 6 tons! It was constructed with no mortar at all. The arches are made strong only by gravity.

The bridge was actually an aqueduct that carried water for 31 miles from the foothills of the Alps to Nimes. It had to be carefully constructed so that the elevation dropped (water flows downhill on its own), but not too much (it couldn’t become raging) – so they engineered it to decline so gradually that it drops only 4 feet over 31 miles!!

We hiked over the bridge and waved at the kayakers below. It was very hot, so we grabbed some gelato at a stand and headed for Provence, in search of lavender.

Gordes, France

Near Gordes, we hit the jackpot. This is the Abbaye de Senanque, occupied by monks. 

You can wander the property, but have to do so in complete silence. Try that with a chatty 12 year old that has a ton of questions about why monks take a vow of silence!  

She occupied herself by photographing butterflies. These were 2 of her best shots:

When we got back in the car, she burst. She said, “I would make a terrible monk. But I think you would make a good monk, Mom.” Very observant, dear child. Now be quiet and let mommy drive in silence.

Next on our itinerary was Aix en Provence, but we found it to be a nightmare. Traffic was TERRIBLE. There were people everywhere, and it wasn’t particularly scenic or historic – just large and very crowded. The best thing I saw was the Apple Store. We had intended to do some shopping, but didn’t even get out of the car. This wasn’t the peaceful Provence I was looking for.

Our hotel for the night is in Marseille, which is the second largest city in France. However, it honestly feels smaller than Aix en Provence did. Hotel 96 is an absolute oasis, tucked away in a quiet corner of town. The hotel is ranked #1 out of 127 Marseille hotels on Trip Advisor, and now I understand why. This pool is right outside the door of our room, and an herb garden is located outside the back patio sliding door. 

A friendly dog even visited our room to say hello. 

We drove 3km to the beach just to take a quick peek, picked up a pizza for dinner, then retired to the hotel so M could swim and I could blog.

Tomorrow: We do our best Brigitte Bardot imitations as we roam the Riviera.

France Day 5: Our legs hurt

We woke up in Hotel Le Saint Cirq and threw open the windows to look out onto the vineyard and lavender patch below.  We had explored Saint Cirq Lapopie last night, and had dinner in town, but it was late, and dark. This morning we ventured back and found an eye-popping town.

No wonder it was named the most beautiful village in France. It is clinging to the side of a cliff, and hanging above the Lot River. The tiny cobblestone lanes (no cars are allowed) are murder on the legs, as they go straight up and down. People who live there must have buns of steel!

We even found a Saint Cirq Lapuppy. (Tee hee!)

We gobbled down an almond croissant and an apple fritter, along with fresh orange juice and café au lait, while overlooking the spectacular view below. (I feel “meh” about coffee back home. But in France, I LOVE coffee. It is so much better here!)

After seeing how dark the water was in the Lot River, we decided against canoeing, so it was back into the car and on to Albi. We planned to stop there only because I had read the cathedral had a turquoise ceiling. And I will stop to see anything turquoise. But Albi turned out to be our favorite city so far! It is a medium sized bustling city, but has a very unique look and an artsy feel – different from anything I have seen before in France (or Italy!). Because there is no stone quarry nearby, the entire town is built with red brick. We scrapped our plans to visit Conques, and spent a few hours walking around Albi and eating lunch.

M outside the Toulouse Lautrec museum in Albi

The cathedral, Saint Cecile, is THE best cathedral I have seen in France, hands down. Better than Notre Dame and Saint Chapel in Paris, and anything we have seen so far on this trip. My mind was blown. It was built in 1265, entirely out of brick, and is MASSIVE. Here is M standing next to it, for scale:

Brick, you guys. Someone had to lay each and every one of those bricks!!

It was built right after the crusades to remind people that the church was powerful, and to be respected. I don’t do religion, but I totally understand how people walked into these places hundreds of years ago and instantly believed every word they were told. The giant scale dwarfs you, the décor overwhelms you, and for a moment you think, there’s no way anybody would go to this much trouble if their message isn’t 100% accurate. But I ESPECIALLY had that feeling at Saint Cecile. It was breathtaking.

Every single square inch of the interior was covered with colorful patterns.  

The giant Last Judgment painting is from 1474.

And the ceiling – WOW. I am afraid my photos don’t do it justice. It is covered in Fresco paintings that have not been touched or restored in 500 years. It is brilliant and stunning.

Honestly, I didn’t want to leave.

But we had to drive 2 hours to Carcassonne, so we hit the road. We have been listening to French Radio for 5 days now, including a lot of French rap and Euro pop – but today, we had a special visitor come over the airwaves. Yes, they played Adam Levine, singing Sugar. It instantly made us feel really sweet inside (that was M’s line).

Carcassonne is something out of a fairy tale.

It is a perfectly restored medieval town and UNESCO heritage site, full of turrets, cobblestones, a cathedral and a castle. The whole thing is surrounded by 2 sets of walls, originally built by the Romans in the 2^nd century BC. If my math is right, that is 2200 years ago!  Its heyday was in the 1100s, when most of the structures inside the walls were built, and the walls were made much taller.

M and I took the 2-mile walk around the outside of the town, between the 2 walls, to try to capture Carcassonne’s magic in photos.

Then we walked back around, outside the exterior wall to get more photos!  Exhausted, we crossed the drawbridge and returned to our room – INSIDE the walls (most people stay outside, in the new village below, but when you book 6 months in advance, you can get one of the few rooms inside the town!)

Now do you understand why our legs hurt? Bon soir!

Tomorrow: Provence's lavender fields!

France Day Four: I lost my kid in France!

Today we were in the Loire Valley, where in the 1400s, the French kings constantly moved from chateau to chateau to rule their realm. Later these chateaux became vacation homes, where kings would visit to host hunting parties. Our day started at Chateau Chenonceau, built in the 1500s, which was most famously occupied by Diane de Poitiers, mistress of King Henri II.  

M loved the story of how when Henri died, his wife, Catherine de Medici, booted Diane out, took over the castle, and hung her portrait in Diane’s old bedroom. Because this castle was mostly occupied by women, it has a feminine touch on the inside, including amazing fresh floral arrangements in every room.

M also really liked the kitchen, which had separate little areas for each task. This was the herb room, used solely for growing and drying herbs:

Of course we had to get our daily dose of WWII history, and Chenonceau kicked it off. The castle spans the river Cher, which separated German occupied France from free France during the war. The chateau staff arranged for many late night prisoner swaps, helping Jews and resistance fighters cross in secret. Because the chateau was technically a river crossing, the Nazis has artillery aimed at it, ready to blow it to pieces should the Allies use it to advance. Thank goodness, they never did!

Next we drove 45 minutes to Chateau Chambord – the largest in the Loire Valley. It has 426 rooms (some say 440, but who is counting), 77 staircases and more than 250 fireplaces. It was only occupied by the king who built it for 72 days in his whole lifetime!

It also has a double helix staircase designed by Leonardo da Vinci, which led to all kinds of trouble.

The staircase, 5 stories tall, is designed so that the person going up and the person going down can never meet. M and I thought it would be fun to each go up a different side, and see what happened, figuring we would meet back up. Bad idea…

I stopped on the first floor, thinking she would too. She didn’t. We knew our ultimate goal was to get to the roof, so after waiting a bit, I kept going up. But she started coming back down. And because of Leonardo’s stupid double helix – we couldn’t see each other. At times I could hear her calling me. And I would say, “Yes! Maddie! Follow the sound of my voice!” But she couldn’t. We were separated for about half an hour – both totally freaking out. Finally, a nice British couple noticed she was in distress and offered to help. M told them what I was wearing. The husband went up one side, while the wife and M went up the other. When they got to the top, M spotted me on the roof, and screamed, “MOM!!!” with glee as if we had been separated for years. We ran to each other and hugged. We are now fighting with Leonardo Da Vinci. 

See that person in red, on the roof? That is where we finally met up!:

We left the Loire Valley and headed for the Dordogne. Since M was enjoying the WWII history so much, I made a detour to Oradour-sur-Glane, another “maybe” on our itinerary. All I can say is WOW. What a powerful experience.

On June 10, 1944 (four days after D-Day), the Nazis rounded up every single one of the town’s 642 residents, and killed all the men with machine guns. They herded all the women and more than 200 children into the church, telling them they would be fine – then locked the doors and set the church on fire. On their way out, they burned down the town. Every single resident died that day.

President Charles de Gaulle ordered that the town be left completely untouched, and named it Village of the Martyrs. It stands today exactly as it did that day 70 years ago, and greets visitors with one word: Remember.

M and I strolled through the entire town, which is quite large. Buildings are marked with the type of business (café, dentist, etc.) or family name. The auto repair garage left a lump in my throat.

We also went into the church, where we felt an instant and overpowering sadness. As we continued walking, M told me stories about how her great grandma, who is now 100, survived the Holocaust and escaped German soldiers. She said that her great grandma told her the exact same message carried by this village: “it is important to remember, so that it never happens again.”

 Inside the church. That is a burned, rusted baby carriage frame on the alter. 

I was fighting back tears the whole time. If you ever get to France, make it a priority to visit the Village of the Martyrs.

We then drove another 2 hours south to our hotel just under St. Cirq Lapopie (which M has renamed “Le Poopie”), the cliff-side village named the most beautiful village in France. More on that tomorrow.

Also tomorrow: We go canoeing on the river and sleep in a medieval castle.